Frayed
by some blue december
Summary: She doesn't realise how screwed up her life is until she ends up in the gutter.
1. Chapter One

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _The Outsiders_ by S.E. Hinton, or "Frayed" by The Naked and Famous.

**A/N:** As usual, this is set in the same universe as all my other stories. It will be three chapters, it takes place about six months after _Sway_, and ties heavily into the next chapter of _Edges In Between_ :)

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**CHAPTER ONE**

_Cut it up, it's fucked, you say it's useless._

The sheets feel grimy beneath her bare skin. There's a distinct smells of beer and filth and something she'd rather not distinguish lingering in the small room. Her head throbs, her throat is dry, and she realises very quickly that she genuinely hates herself.

It's taken a long time for it to happen, and even longer for her to realise it. But once she does, it's quick and it's there and she can't stop it, can't do a damn thing about it. This searing hatred of everything she is and ever was burns hotter and stronger each second that passes - too thin, too stupid, too drunk … always too drunk.

She's heard it from everyone else, but it's taken this long - months, in fact - for it to hit her that they're right. Scratching his nails down her ribs, Tim once told her she was _getting too fucking skinny_; finding out she had dropped out of school nine months ago, her dad called her a brainless dropkick; watching her stumble across the parking lot at Buck's far too many times, Evie asked if maybe she was drinking too much.

But they don't know shit. They don't know what it's been like this last year. They don't have any right to say that kind of stuff to her.

And, until twenty seconds ago, Sylvia truly believed that. Waking up next to the redhead she's sharing a bed with, she realises maybe everyone is right. And, once that realisation hits, sincere hate floods through her.

Two-Bit slowly wakes up and she can't help but wonder which of them hit a new low the night before. He slept with his dead buddy's girlfriend, while she slept with her dead boyfriend's buddy; they both seem as bad as each other, and in her hungover state she can't quite figure out which is worse, who should feel worse … until Two-Bit looks at her.

Shame washes over her at the guilt and regret and _disgust_ in his eyes, but she says nothing as he stumbles out of bed and into his clothes. She hates him for it almost as much as she hates herself. She wants to be the one to leave first, to run away from this awkward silence, to be the disgusted one. But Two-Bit's getting there first, and all she can do is clutch the thin sheet tighter to her naked chest.

He searches under the bed for one of his shoes, and to keep herself looking busy and uncaring, she carefully wipes at the dark smudges of make-up that are sure to be beneath her eyes. It doesn't take him long to find the boot, and she's pretty sure he's still barely conscious when he sits next to her to pull his shoes on.

She stays silent, and he rubs the sleep out of his eyes before looking at her blearily. "You know, in the glaring light of day, you don't look nearly as much like Kathy as I'd thought."

He leaves without another word, and what he said hurts more than she cares to admit.

XXXXX

No more drinking.

She's told herself this daily since waking up next to Two-Bit Mathews in a dingy room at Buck's - naked, exhausted, and bruised in all the right places. All the places that prove exactly what had happened between them the night before.

She didn't go home that night. Couldn't stand the mere thought of the look in her old man's eyes when she walked through the door, reeking of beer and filth and Two-Bit Mathews. Two-Bit fucking Mathews … the memory of what she had done with him still leaves a nasty taste in her mouth, a bitter hint of puke in the back of her throat.

No more drinking.

Instead of going home that night she'd bought a fifth of vodka and downed most of it in her car before trying to make it home. She had passed out behind the wheel, crookedly parked in the parking lot of her old middle school, only two blocks from her house. Sitting in Buck's four days later, she still thinks it's lucky no cops found her there.

No more drinking.

She grits her teeth and firmly tries to make herself believe this as she stares at the glass in front of her. She hasn't had a drink since that night in her car, spending the next four days pretending the shaking hands and dry horrors meant nothing.

_No more fucking drinking_.

She'd thought it might actually be possible up until two hours ago. She was doing well, could deal with whatever life threw at her … but the longer she had to sit through the day without a drink, the more fucked up her mind became. Her mantra - despite sounding stronger and stronger every time she went over it in her head - is falling to pieces.

No more drinking - three words of bullshit that mean nothing. With a disgusted scoff at herself, she picks up the glass and brings it to her lips. Four days was nothing, anyway. Less than a week. It's not as if it was anything to be proud of.

"Hey."

Company is the last thing she wants. Buck's is nearly empty - not surprising for a Sunday night - with only a few drunks lingering in the corner and herself seated at the bar. And she had been quite happy to keep it that way, thank you very much. With a scowl, she slowly sets the glass down and turns to look at the person talking to her. She's more than surprised to find Danny Harris sitting on the stool next to her.

He's not looking at her, and his greeting was probably more out of habit than anything else, but that's a-okay with her. She didn't come to Buck's to have some hood offer to buy her drinks so he could get laid. That was last week. She frowns, slightly disgusted in herself, and downs her drink without another thought.

Buck appears, and Danny quietly orders his drink before speaking up. "And get her another; it looks like she needs it."

Sylvia glances at him and scoffs. She's never been terribly fond of this guy. "I ain't no charity case."

"I don't remember offering you any charity. Just a drink."

She stares at him, but he does one hell of a job at not meeting her gaze. Buck, bottle of rum in his hand, looks between the two of them as thought waiting for her to say yes or no. She bites her lip, not sure if she's wary of the free drink, or the _second_ drink.

Danny shrugs. "Ain't no skin off my nose if ya don't take it."

She grits her teeth and gives Buck a small nod, telling herself she's only taking the drink to because it's rude to say no. But the drink is in front of her seconds later, and her mouth is dry with want. A quick glance at Danny shows he's still not looking at her, but she still makes a point of picking up the glass and taking a devastatingly tiny sip.

It's not enough, and she wishes she could finish it right away without hating herself that little bit more.

Danny fidgets next to her, digging his smokes out of his pocket. Wiping her sweaty palms on her skirt, she clears her throat.

"Think I could bum one of those?"

He raises an eyebrow at her, but says nothing as he lights two smokes and passes her one. She inhales deeply, holding the smoke in her lungs and wishing it was more than just tobacco she was inhaling. With a heavy sigh, she lets the smoke drift from her lips and wonders if Danny has anything stronger on him. Tim's known for staying out of the drug business, but that doesn't mean his boys don't use for their own entertainment.

"Ain't many here tonight," Danny says a few moments later.

She sighs. "I wasn't askin' for conversation when I asked for the smoke."

"Just sayin'."

She rolls her eyes but finds herself responding anyway. "It's Sunday. Ain't no reason for anyone to be drinkin' tonight."

"Except you, apparently."

There's nothing to say to that - no point in denying it, no reason to tell Danny that she drinks every night and this is no special occasion. She doesn't need anyone knowing her private business, or the fact that she's unable to go five damn days without a drink.

She decides to change the subject. "Ain't seen your sister around in a while."

"Yeah."

"Yeah? What does that even mean?"

"It means you're right; you ain't seen her around in a while."

"Why not?"

"Why d'you think?"

She ponders that for a moment, not sure what he was getting at. "I dunno."

Danny frowns at her. "Randle left for 'Nam a while back."

"He did?"

"You didn't know? I thought Evie would've told ya."

She says nothing, not wanting to talk or think about Evie. Evie hasn't spoken to her since the night she threw herself at Evie's new boyfriend. Nice impression she had made then, she was sure.

Pushing that thought away, she thinks about what Danny said, and a sick taste enters her mouth. Steve Randle is in Vietnam. She's never liked Anna much, but she can't imagine being in her place when Steve's ticket had been called. She takes a long drink, thinking about changing the subject again, but Danny saves her the trouble.

"Ain't seen you around much, either, these last few weeks."

She shrugs. She's been around plenty, just not anywhere Tim might be. She's been avoiding him for a while now, and avoiding him means avoiding Danny, because where one is, the other isn't far behind.

And anyway, she spent a lot of her time drinking these days, and she currently prefers to think of drinking as a solitary activity.

Danny continues when she says nothing. "Guess I can hardly blame you either."

She shrugs again. Maybe choosing a topic of conversation herself wasn't as bad an idea as it could've been.

"You still datin' Shelley?" she asks, knowing damn well he isn't, and maybe continuing just to be purposefully spiteful. "Or did Ruth manage to manipulate you into getting back with her again. Or are you still hooked on Kathy?"

To her surprise, he grins. "Been with Mary-Louise for a while now. She's a nice girl."

"Don't get too excited.

"Nothin' wrong with a nice girl."

"Sure, but they're hardly as exciting as us … not so nice girls," she says dryly.

Danny says nothing, but she doesn't miss the sly grin on his lips. She rolls her eyes; he's no different to any of the other guys she knows - Tim, Two-Bit, Dally …

Her throat constricts at the thought of Dallas, and she quickly finishes off her drink. She doesn't want or need to think about him. He's the whole reason her life is such a goddamn mess, after all. If he hadn't died all she'd be dealing with was a moody boyfriend who pissed her off more than he made her smile.

Out of the corner of her eye she sees Danny signal for Buck to bring them both another drink.

"You don't gotta do that," she mutters, suddenly feeling bad.

He shrugs, not looking at her.

She watches him carefully, waiting for Buck to leave them alone again. "I ain't goin' home with you."

"Don't remember askin' you to."

A blush creeps up her face. "Then why are you buying me drinks?"

"Like I said before; it don't worry me any if you don't drink it."

She takes a small sip before replying. "That doesn't answer my question. Why are you bein' so nice."

Danny sighs and finally looks at her again. "From what I've seen, there ain't too many people bein' nice to you these days."

She holds his gaze until tears prick her eyes. Looking down at the bar, she runs her nail through an already well-established scratch and says nothing. Danny's silent, too, and she almost wishes he would start talking again. Not about Evie, not about her not being as social as she once was, and not about why he was being so nice.

But she wants him to speak again because she just can't stand the silence. She takes a long drink.

"I gotta get goin'," he finally says, and she hates him for it.

"Right."

"You know, you really shouldn't drink too much more."

"Screw you."

A grin crosses his face. "Thanks, but I'm good."

He might be trying to make a joke, and she hadn't been the slightest bit serious, but the rejection still kind of hurts. She finishes her drink and gives him the finger.

He stands. "You need a ride?"

"Not from _you_."

"Suit yourself."

She ignores him, keeping her gaze on her empty glass as he stares at her. Finally he turns away and calls to Buck.

"Get her one more," he says, throwing money on the counter, "then send her home. She's had enough."

Biting her lip, she pointedly ignores both of them and fights back tears. She hasn't had enough, not nearly. And, hell, she's barely had half what she would on any other night, but she's sick and tired of Danny Harris, and if letting him say shit like that is enough to get him to leave, then so be it.

Buck pours her drink and walks off, and without another word, Danny leaves, too. And when the door closes behind him, she finally lets the tears fall. His last words are the cause of her tears, but whether it's due to their nastiness or concern, she doesn't know.

XXXXX

She had knocked back the drinks Ricky gave her, she smoked the jay he handed her, and she even took that little pill he slipped into her palm. She doesn't know what it was - isn't too sure she cares that much, either - but he told her it was just something to help keep their buzz going.

She also isn't sure how much she believes that, but she feels okay, and okay is better than how she usually feels so she won't complain.

Plus, Ricky is a good-looking guy. A complete asshole, but still a good-looking guy with a certain James Dean appeal to him. He's also the only guy who's paid her any attention all night, and it feels better than it should. Because she knows it shouldn't feel good. Ricky is an asshole, and he's proved that to her and everyone else time and time again.

But he's an awful good kisser, he has really nice eyes, and he knows how to sweet-talk a girl like no one else. Experience in his good kissing, nice eyes, and sweet talk - combined with the vodka burning its way through her stomach lining - is as good a reason as any to go along with whatever he's got in store for them.

It's not as if anyone else is willing to take her away from Buck's and spend their night entertaining her. Well, that might not be entirely true; she'd seen two other guys watching her at Buck's, but one of them was Tim and the other was Danny. She's not willing to go near either of them, no matter how drunk she is and how good looking they are. She's still too embarrassed from the last time she saw Tim, and too angry about the last time she saw Danny.

So Ricky Bolton it is. Hell, she's drunk, stoned, and craving whatever kind of attention she can get. She's knows it's not a good combination, but it's her usual combination. It is what it is and she's not sure there's a whole lot of anything she can do about it. She's not even sure there's a whole lot of anything she _wants_ to do about it.

They're in a convenience store a few blocks from the hospital. It looks familiar, but in the state she's in she can't quite remember ever being there before. Not for a Coke, not for cigarettes, not even to pinch a pack of gum. Shrugging, she slips a packet of cherry gum up her sleeve and figures the store looks like every other late-night store in town - run-down, cheap, and empty.

She smirks and heads back toward Ricky. He's standing near the counter, fidgeting as he sifts through the candy bars and waits in line. She doesn't know what he's buying, or _why_ he's buying - he's hardly known for being law-abiding - but he waits his turn, not moving to the front of the counter until the person in front of him leaves the store and they're the only two customers left.

The he pulls the gun out of the back of his jeans.

Her breath catches, short and sharp, and she knows exactly where she is.

All she can see is Dallas. Dallas, who help up a convenience store. Dallas, who called his friends to help him get away. Dallas, who died that very night.

Dallas, who didn't call _her_ before he died.

She had read the paper - that's how she found out, after all - and she knows now that that's how she knows this place. She came here a few times after it happened, just so she could see for herself where he had been. And now she's here and she's with Ricky and _Dallas never called her_.

Her hands shake and she begins to think people might be right. Hell, she's been wondering for a while now if everyone was right. Dallas never loved her. She had very rarely let herself believe he might, but it's hitting her now that he barely even cared about her, let alone loved her.

That's why, when Ricky aims the gun at the man behind the counter and demands all the cash in the till, she goes and stand obediently behind him.

And a small part of her almost hopes this ends as well for her as it did for Dallas.

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**A/N:** Feedback is appreciated.


	2. Chapter Two

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _The Outsiders_ by S.E. Hinton, or "Frayed" by The Naked and Famous.

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**CHAPTER TWO**

_Here it comes, the sum, of all excuses._

Officer Jerome is staring at her, and she knows he's trying to silently remind her just how lucky she's been tonight. It wasn't ten seconds after she went to stand next to Ricky that the cops showed up, and the moment some asshole walked her inside the police station, hands cuffed her behind her, officer Jerome'd had her back.

"Considerin' who you were caught with, you oughtta be thankin' the Lord above that you don't already have a record for yourself."

Fighting a smirk, she had nodded. She can't imagine what he would say if he knew she was Dally's girlfriend.

"Make your call," he told her, "then take a seat. I ain't lettin' you leave until either your ma or pa is here to get ya."

"I can't call my parents."

"And why on earth not?"

"My dad won't be home, and my mom's dead." She'd considered forcing out a few crocodile tears in hopes that he wouldn't push for her to try her old man anyway, but they're weren't needed.

He'd sighed. "You got anyone you can call?"

And that's why, twenty minutes later, she's avoiding Officer Jerome's gaze and waiting for Tim to pick her up. A little over a year ago and Tim probably would have found this to be pretty damn funny. He and Dally might have even been a bit proud. Maybe not so much the her-getting-caught-holding-up-a-convenience-store-with-Ricky-Bolton part, but definitely the getting-arrested part.

"You need bail?" he'd asked when she explained that she was in jail.

She'd sighed in relief, glad he wasn't asking more questions. "No. Just a ride home."

"Give me twenty minutes."

He hung up after that, but he's here now and she does exactly what Officer Jerome suggested earlier and thanks the Lord above. Licking her lips, she sneaks out of the police station without a word, and runs to Tim's car. When she gets in, she's surprised, and a little pissed off, to find Danny in the drivers seat.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, fucking shit.

"What are you doing here?"

He pulls away from the curb without looking at her. "Y'know, I always figured you were a sucker for punishment, what with datin' Dallas Winston, but goin' off with Bolton was just fucking stupid."

"Not that it's any of your business."

"You called Tim and Tim asked me to pick you up. That makes it my business."

"Please. I'm eighteen. Sure, I'm lucky the cops didn't decide to hold me for getting into the wrong kind of mess with the wrong kind of guy, but I don't need anyone sitting me down for a talk about right and wrong." She glares at him. "Especially not someone as hypocritical as you or Tim."

"Me?"

"As if your record is any better than Tim's."

"I guess you got a point there. But you're just damn lucky you got off scot-free. Tim ain't in the business of bailing out anyone but Curly."

"Whatever."

Danny chuckles at her pathetic comeback, but says nothing. And she's damn grateful, too. The last thing she wants is to have to make conversation with someone who, just last week, had made snide comments about her drinking. As far as she's concerned, he doesn't know shit.

"Where're you takin' me?" she asks, noting they're heading in the direction of her house.

"Home."

"I don't wanna go home."

"No, you wanna go back to Buck's and get wasted, right?"

"You're such an asshole! Take me to Buck's."

"Why? So you can tell everyone there about your time in the slammer?"

Ha. Officer Jerome had sat her on the cushy chair in the waiting room the moment she arrived. She hadn't even _seen_ the cells Ricky had been led to.

"C'mon, Danny. I just wanna go to Buck's."

"Tim ain't there."

"I don't care."

"He left me with strict instructions to take you home."

She glares. "You always do what Timmy tells you to?"

He glares right back. "I do when it's stopping someone from doin' something else stupid. You've already been arrested tonight, Syl. How much more trouble you wanna get into?"

"I won't get into any trouble at Buck's."

"Bullshit."

Her eyes narrow. "You don't know anything."

"I've known you for years, and you've been in nothing but trouble at Buck's since Dallas died."

For the second time in as many hours, her breath catches. And this time it's far worse, far harder to get her breath back, because no one - _no one_ - has ever said his name to her since he died. No one.

Once again she's fighting tears at something Danny Harris has said to her, and when he pulls up outside her house she couldn't be happier. Even Tim has the decency to never mention Dallas. She grabs her purse and reaches for the door handle, radiating anger.

"What? No thank you?"

She glares at Danny. She hates him, and he clearly can't stand her. Anyone else and maybe his actions tonight would have been a kind gesture, but she knows he's just being mean.

"I can't for the life of me figure out why Mary-Louise is still with you."

He grins. "And you never will."

"You're a pig."

"And you're welcome. Night, Syl."

XXXXX

Sitting in her car outside the rundown roadhouse, she feels sick to her stomach. She knows the things people are saying about her - she'd have to be deaf not to hear them - but she just can't bring herself to care enough to stop.

Jack Hennings has been telling everyone that she'd been so desperate the night before her arrest that she'd let him feel her up in exchange for a free drink.

Beth Travis has been telling everyone that holding up the convenience store was Sylvia's idea. That she wanted to go out with a bang, just like that dead boyfriend of hers.

Two-Bit Mathews has been telling everyone that she's bad in bed.

That one hurts most, she can't deny that. Not so much the words, but the fact that they're coming from Two-Bit. She and Two-Bit have never exactly been friends, but she had dated Dallas on and off for years - she can't help but think that should give her some kind of immunity from Two-Bit and his loud mouth.

She hasn't been out since the night Officer Jerome let her off so easily, but thanks to her very gossipy work mate she's still heard the rumours about herself. It's been three weeks, and already there's at least seven different stories going around. And if it wasn't for her old man nicking the bottle of vodka she had bought for herself, she would still be avoiding everyone she knows. News spreads fast with these people, whether it's true or not, and she hasn't had the guts to show her face since.

She's not used to feeling like that. When Dally was alive she had nothing but courage. And pride. And it's her damn pride that has her at Buck's rather than some other dive downtown.

But she's nervous. As much as she wants to put whatever rumours she can to rest, she's still nervous. She's had one drink all day; she's not nearly drunk enough to deal with everyone judging her.

"Fuck it," she mutters, reaching for the door handle.

She spent more time in this place while dating Dally than she did in her own home. The people inside might be real assholes, but there's nothing in there she hasn't dealt with before … many times.

But she barely makes it into the parking lot before she sees a bunch of girls pointing and whispering. She rolls her eyes at them and glances to her right; Curly's there, watching her with that dopey look he sometimes gets, but Jack's smirking at her and nudging Curly. She glares at them both, not sure who she hates more - Jack for saying shit about her, or herself for not remembering if what's he's been saying is true.

Giving out the iciest look she can manage - the one she learned from Dally - she ignores them all and continues toward the building. But then she sees Danny and her heart stops. She pushed forward, but hates the sudden flush of embarrassment she gets just from looking at him. She's had two conversations with him in the last month, and both times he's made her feel like a cheap and messy.

It occasionally occurs to her that maybe Danny has a point with some of the things he's said over the last month. Those slightly sober moments never last long, though, and it never takes much for her to remember what an asshole he's been - _You really shouldn't drink too much more … She's had enough … You've been in nothing but trouble at Buck's since Dallas died_.

He's a jerk and she hopes to God he doesn't see her. The last thing she needs is him and his lectures about how much she's drinking. But, of course, God isn't on her side. Hasn't been for some time now, she's sure.

Danny's watching her, looking relaxed as he stands next to his car with Tim. His hands are shoved casually in his jeans pockets, and his green eyes look at her in a way she hates. She smirks and flips him off. Dally would be proud.

She can feel both his and Tim's gaze on her as she makes her way to the door, and does her best to ignore them both. She might have called Tim to help her out the night she and Ricky got caught, but she hasn't seen him in months. After being not quite drunk enough at a party one night, she'd seen the look of pity in his eyes when she attempted to crawl into his lap.

Pity. That's why he'd been so willingly taking her home this last year. She's avoided him since.

But now he's here and so is Danny and so is everyone who's heard everything there is to hear about her these last few weeks. And she finds herself unable to open the door to Buck's. Her hands shake and her breathing sounds harsh, even to her own ears. Maybe it's seeing Tim after making such a fool of herself. Maybe it's because there's a party going on inside and she's no longer strong enough to handle what people are saying about her. Or maybe it's because Danny's words have struck a bigger nerve than she's willing to admit.

The door opens without her help and she's pushes to the side by a couple of guys she doesn't know. She stands in place, eyes on the door handle, watching as it swings away from her and wondering why she can't just reach out and grab it. Wondering if she could make herself walk inside even if she did manage to get the door open.

The thought of the people inside, the claustrophobic atmosphere of Buck's parties that she used to love, now terrifies her, and that isn't a feeling she's used to. For the first time in her life, she can't handle the staring and whispering. Her body shakes, and she steps back, promptly banging into a hard body.

She whirls around, ready to push past whoever is there and go straight back to her car. She'll find another dive bar on the other side of town if she has to.

"Hey, it's okay." A low voice is speaking close to her ear, and she only then realises that warm hands are holding her shoulders. "It's okay."

She looks up to see a pair of bright green eyes staring at her with … concern? Blinking a few times, she recognises Danny and knows it's unlikely to be concern.

"Let me go," she hisses, barely able to get the words out.

He does as she asks, dropping his hands and shoving them into his jeans pockets. She stands in front of him, knowing she should leave rather than hang around to hear whatever he has to say, but she can't.

"You okay?" he asks.

"What do you care?"

"Ain't no one else paying enough attention to see you almost get bowled over there. Just wanted to make sure you ain't hurt."

"I'm fine."

Danny looks down and she waits for him to speak again. "You're shaking."

She clenches her hands and crosses her arms, shoving her fists out of sight. Neither of them say anything else, and a few more people squeeze past them and into Buck's. Sylvia watches them longingly. Screw the staring and whispers; she wants to leave Danny, go inside, and get so drunk she forgets everything.

"Thirsty?"

She looks at him, sure there's a hint of malice to his voice, and aching to slap the condescending look right off his face. "Screw you."

"I'm pretty sure we already had _that_ conversation."

She wants to scream, and she realises then why she's never liked him all that much; he's too much like his damn sister with his quick comebacks.

"Leave me alone."

"I ain't stopping you from going anywhere."

He's right, of course. He's not stopping her from doing a damn thing. She can go inside and have a drink, or she can go right back to her car and leave. She can do whatever the hell she wants … if only she could get her legs to move.

She stays silent and he continues to watch her. Her nails dig into her palms, a lump grows in the back of her throat, and it's all her own fault. She wants to blame Danny, but it's always her own fault.

Danny, Tim, everyone inside Buck's might be stopping her from going in, but none of them are stopping her from leaving. That's entirely her own doing.

"What're you gonna do?"

She looks at Danny, once again wondering if that's concern in his eyes. She doesn't know what to make of it - what to make of him.

"What do you care?"

"Just curious."

She looks at the door again, then back at Danny. She looks over at Tim, then back at Danny. Finally, she looks toward her car, then back at Danny.

His eyes are bright as they stare at her, and she feels tears coming just from looking into them. Whether he's being nice or just being a bastard is yet to be determined, but, either way, he's getting to her and she hates him for it.

"Leave me alone," she says again, knowing they're simply going in circles.

He says nothing, and she looks at the door as Two-Bit - looking more than a little worse for wear - comes stumbling out. She tenses at the familiar face, particularly _his_ face, and knows there's nothing but more familiar faces inside.

"Let me buy you a drink," Danny says as Two-Bit staggers off.

She shakes her head, gaze still on Two-Bit.

"C'mon, just one. Then I'll leave ya alone."

Lower lip caught between her teeth, she looks up at him.

"I promise. Just have one drink with me and I'll never bother you again."

A free drink is a free drink, and company inside Buck's is more than she could have hoped for. She's not exactly fond of said company, but like the drink, company is company, no matter who it is.

"Fine."

He grins. "Good."

She watches him open the door, hating that something so fucking simple was so damn hard for her to do. She'd be halfway drunk by now had she managed to get in there earlier. But then he places a hand between her shoulder blades to lead her inside, and she tenses, realising it's the first time a guy has touched her without trying to get into her pants in … she doesn't even know how long.

It's a depressing thought.

Danny takes them to a corner table and sits her down before going to get their drinks. She watches him, hating that keeping her eyes on someone she knows - someone who is perhaps being genuinely nice - is a whole lot easier than looking around the smoke-filled room. She doesn't want to meet the gazes of the people talking shit about her.

Unfortunately that doesn't stop others from settling their gaze on her.

"Sylvia?"

She looks up at Two-Bit, and sucks in a breath. She hadn't even noticed him come back inside.

"Hey."

He falls into the seat opposite her, beer hanging dangerously from his fingertips. "Where ya been?"

"Around."

"Yeah. You here with Harris?"

"No," she spits, hardly keeping the distaste out of her voice.

He says nothing, just stares at her, and she finds herself wishing Danny would hurry back.

"I ain't seen ya in a while," he finally says, and she knows he must be pretty soused to be bringing this up. "Not since …"

He trails off and she's glad. But she continues to stare at him, realising that he gets it - that he's as drunk as he is for the same reason she plans on getting that drunk. She looks away, relieved when she sees Danny heading back towards her.

"Get lost, Mathews," he says when he gets there.

Two-Bit stands and scratches the back of his head. He opens his mouth to say something, but seems to think better of it and stumbles away.

Danny sits in his seat and hands her a glass. She takes it gladly, savouring the taste and the heat and the beginning of the numbness she knows is to come.

Licking her lips, she looks at Danny. "Uh, thanks."

"Don't gotta thank me. I offered to buy it for you."

"Yeah. Why is that?"

"Because you needed it."

"I don't need anything from you," she shoots back.

He grins. "Yeah, you were doin' a real good job of getting inside before I came along."

"Why are you being such a jerk?" she asks. Gripping the glass tightly, she takes a long gulp, enjoying the warm courage coursing through her. "It's not right to offer to buy a girl a drink then be so rude, you know?"

"It also ain't right to drink as much as you do. You're givin' Mathews a run for his money."

"Fuck you. You don't know how much I drink."

"I also don't know many girls who can throw back that much vodka that quickly without blinking an eye."

Her hands are shaking again, this time from anger. "Is this why you offered to buy me a drink? So you could scold me for it?"

"I bought you a drink because you needed it. I just think that life would be much easier for you if you didn't need it."

"Yeah, like that's gonna happen."

They're silent, and as Danny finishes his beer, she has to resist the urge to get up and get another drink. She wonders if he meant it when he said one drink. Will he leave once he's finished his beer? She's not sure she's ready to be alone.

He sits his empty bottle down and looks at her. "Want another?"

"I thought you said one drink and you'll leave me alone?" she mocks, wanting to kick herself as soon as the words are out of her mouth.

He shrugs. "I'm offering you another; it's the polite thing to do."

God how she hates him. One minute he's ragging on her about drinking too much, the next he's willing to buy her another because _it's the polite thing to do_. She decides he's full of bullshit, but is relieved when he takes her silence as conformation and signals to Buck for more.

She sits up a little straighter, smirking. "Since when are you into being polite?"

"Shoot, I've always been polite, you just never knew me well enough to know it."

"Thank God for that," she mutters.

He grins at her again, and she hates that he seems so at ease every time she tries to insult him.

"You could try it sometime," he says once their drinks arrive. "I'm not one hundred percent sure, but I'm guessing it's never killed anyone."

"You're an asshole."

"So I've heard."

Ignoring his eyes, she takes a long drink, wishing it was her fourth or fifth, rather than her second.

"Why'd you decide to come out tonight?" he asks. "You've been avoiding everyone for weeks."

"None of your business."

He smoothly changes the subject. "You here about Curtis?"

"Which one?"

"Sodapop. Got his ticket called last week."

"Oh." She lifts her glass to her lips, avoiding Danny's gaze and hating how unfair life is.

"I'd say that's why Mathews has been drunker than usual lately, constantly shootin' his mouth off …"

She tenses, knowing exactly what Danny is getting at. She can't believe he'd bring that up, and decides to ignore that, too. She thinks about Two-Bit and his drinking. If he has been more drunk than usual lately, she knows Sodapop being drafted is only part of it.

And before she knows what she's doing, she's telling Danny everything.

"It's Dally's birthday."

He stays silent.

"Today," she adds, as if he needs more clarification.

He nods. "That's why you decided to come out?"

"I guess."

"It doesn't seem like you wanna be here."

"I _don't_. If I could be at home, drinking the vodka I bought just for tonight then I would be. But I don't have much luck in my life anymore, and my dad decided he was going to take that bottle for himself." She relieves her anger by finishing what's left in her glass.

Danny leans over the table and lowers his voice a little. "No amount of drinking is gonna bring him back, you know that, don't ya?"

Bile rises in the back of her throat, and she has to stop herself from throwing her glass at him. She hates him. She knew he was nothing but a bastard, and she fucking hates him. Taking a breath, she lets go of the glass and gets to her feet.

"Fuck you."

He leans back in his chair, looking nothing but calm. "I'm serious."

She shakes her head, more angry tears surfacing. "No, you're a bastard."

She's out the door in seconds, and in her car a minute later. She doesn't look back once, knowing there's no point; he won't follow her out to apologise. If anything he'd follow her out to continue insulting her.

Her fingers shake so badly that it takes three tries before she gets the keys in the ignition. Taking a calming breath, she puts the car in gear and takes off, wanting nothing more than to go home, crawl into bed, and drink until she passes out.

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**A/N:** Feedback is appreciated :)


	3. Chapter Three

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _The Outsiders_ by S.E. Hinton, or "Frayed" by The Naked and Famous.

* * *

**CHAPTER THREE**

_And he's sick, I'm alone, and it's getting worse._

The minute the door behind her opens, Sylvia decides that God and the Devil have nothing to do with her bullshit life and all the crap she's gone through in the last year. Neither of them are responsible for her drinking, for her dad's bitter attitude, or for her ending up broke and jobless.

It's all Dallas, she's sure of it. Reaching out to torture her, even in death. She's often thought a part of him hated her while he was alive, and now she knows it. And when Danny Harris walks into the bar she's in - the one as far from Buck's she could find on the limited gas she had - she's realises it with such clarity that she laughs.

Or maybe she's just really fucking wasted.

"Somethin' funny?" he asks, sitting next to her. He hands some money to the girl behind the counter for a drink.

"Why is it that you turn up every time I want to be alone?"

"Why is it you go to a bar if you want to be alone?"

He has a point and she knows it. But going to a place like this or Buck's, where she could be mostly alone nearly every time, is so much better than staying at home and being completely alone. Drinking might be a solitary activity, but being by her lonesome gets a little lonelier than she likes to admit.

"None of your business," she says grudgingly.

"Of course it ain't."

"Then why'd you ask?"

"Just curious."

"You shouldn't be so nosy."

He grins at her. "Well now, you're just full of mature comebacks tonight, ain't ya?"

She decides to ignore that dig and have another drink. Screw him and screw everyone else. They can all go to hell for all she cares - Danny, Tim, her dad … the whole goddamn world and everyone in it. She hates them all.

"You know, drinkin' alone can get depressing."

Oh, she knows it. "What's your point?"

"There's a party at Henry's tonight. You should stop by," he says, not even looking at her.

"Why?"

"Why not? C'mon, Syl, we both know you ain't the kinda girl who hides just because people are spreading lies about ya."

Frustrated with the truth he's spitting, she snaps. "What're you even doin' here? Following me?"

"Hardly. I got business."

She's glad when he gets up and leaves her alone. She openly watches him go to a corner table and sit with some guy. Not recognising the other man, she turns back to the bar and throws back the rest of her drink.

"Another?" the barmaid asked.

"Yeah."

Digging in her purse, she's surprised when the girl waves her money off with a nod to Danny. She bristles, hating the relief she will never admit to. Accepting a drink from Danny will just give him reason to start in on her again, she's sure of it. But she needs another drink. She really needs another drink and she's close to broke.

Picking up the glass, she takes a sip, positive she can feel Danny's gaze on her back, and just not caring.

It's just unfortunate he's back only minutes later.

"Listen," he says as soon as he sits back down, and his voice is lower than she's ever heard it. "About what I said the last time I saw you -"

"Don't."

"But -"

"Please." An almost-begging quality enters her voice, and she hates herself for it. "Don't apologise."

She's always hated it when people apologised about Dally or anything to do with him. Apologies are just another reminder that he's gone, and she sure as hell doesn't need any more of those.

Danny nods. "Sure."

They're silent, and she hates that he always seems to see her at her worst. He seems to have some kind of knack for coming across her when she's unable to keep up her cool composure. When her sadness comes through loud and clear.

"So, what's the occasion?" he asks, grabbing his own glass of what she assumes is whiskey.

"Whaddya mean?"

"Guess I'm just wondering if there's always gotta be something goin' on for you to be drinkin' like a fish … Dally's birthday, people talkin' shit -"

"Screw you," she mutters, not bothering to tell him she drinks like a fish most nights.

"Another snappy come back."

She shakes her head, frowning at him. "I really don't understand you. One minute you're on my case about drinking too much, the next you're buying me more to drink. Then you apologise for saying something nasty, before saying something else almost as bad a few minutes later."

He's silent for a moment, seemingly thinking through her words as he watches her carefully.

"Just because I think you drink too much doesn't mean I'm gonna let you waste all your own money doin' it."

"But you don't mind wasting your own money?"

He shrugs. "I'm getting by okay."

"Lucky for some."

"Plus, I'm sure you don't exactly make a fortune at your job."

She scoffs. "What job?"

"I thought you were workin' over at Carter's? Sewing clothes or some shit."

"I was."

"But you're not anymore?"

Were his voice not so low, so possibly concerned, she would snap at him and tell him where to go. But it is low and it truly does sound like he's concerned. She frowns, remembering the last two times she's seen him. Hadn't he seemed concerned then, too? Even willing to listen?

She shakes her head. "No, not anymore."

He's silent, waiting, and she's not sure if it's the alcohol or the possible concern that has her talking.

"I got fired today." She decides not to tell him it was for turning up drunk one too many times.

He raises an eyebrow. "It's less than a week before Christmas."

"I know. So now I'm broke, have no job, and probably no place to live."

"No place to live?" He picks up his drink. "Whaddya mean by that?"

"My dad'll kick me out once he finds out I don't have a job no more."

"Where are you gonna go?"

She just shrugs and takes a long drink. In all honesty, she'll be pleased to be out of that house, but she has no where else to go. She fights back tears as he leaned forward to watch her closer.

"You don't have anywhere to go?"

She laughs again, knowing she's crazy to be telling him this kind of thing. It doesn't matter that he seems to be the one person who will listen, or the one person trying to help in his own messed up way, or the one person she's willing to say anything to; there's no need for him to know about her shitty life.

"I'll go home." It's only a half-truth.

"But, you just said -"

"It's nothing. My dad'll be pissed, but he'll get over it. He won't kick me out."

"Right."

"He won't," she insists.

"Okay."

She raised an eyebrow. "You don't believe me?"

"Why wouldn't I believe you?"

She sighs. She doesn't have the energy to do this with him. They aren't arguing, but she can't be bothered with his banter.

"So you lost your job … that's why you're here tonight?"

She shrugs. "Among other things."

He says nothing and she's glad. She doesn't understand why she can tell him these things when the majority of their conversations consist of him hassling her and her telling him to fuck off.

She rolls her eyes. Who cares? Even she can admit that it's nice to get some things off her chest occasionally.

"Other things like Dallas?" he ask, and this time his saying Dally's name doesn't bother her so much.

"Like Dallas," she agrees.

He signals for more drinks, and she takes it as a sign to down the one she's nursing.

"I guess that means you don't just drink on birthdays and when you lose your job?"

She sighs; there it is. No matter the previous conversation, it seems Danny always has a way to turn things around and make her too angry to see straight - a way to change the subject to something that always causes her blood to boil. Bringing up her drinking seems to be his favourite.

She stands from her stool, ignoring the freshly poured drink.

"There you go hassling me again." She's glad she's wearing heels that make her those few inches taller. "You know what? I'm gonna be at Henry's tonight, just to prove that all this crap you've been saying about me drinking is bullshit. And when you see me, completely sober, you can do me one favour by staying the hell away!"

With that, she turns on her heel and leaves, doing her darndest to not stumble in the state she's in.

XXXXX

She's more drunk than she's been … possibly ever.

Her plan to prove Danny wrong about her drinking is shot to hell only minutes after she arrives at the party. When the only reason she turns up isn't even there, and too many other, judgemental people are … well, with no one to prove wrong, she doesn't see any reason to stay sober.

So she takes the beer Curly hands her to take off the edge. She grabs the bottle of vodka to forget about the people around her. She downs more than half the bottle of vodka because Danny Harris doesn't turn up to the party and she has no reason not to drink herself stupid.

But then he does turn up and she's too damn soused to feel even the slightest bit embarrassed. In fact, she feels a little bit self-righteous, all the while knowing she has no right to do so. She's a drunken mess, unable to even fake a bit of the classiness she was once able to pull off.

But she smirks at Danny anyway, holding up the vodka in a mock toast. He ignores her. Or maybe he simply barely noticed her, because when he turns away from her, a grin crosses his lips at whatever his girlfriend is whispering in his ear.

Whatever. He might be the only reason she turned up at the damn party, but he has nothing to do with why she's staying. The vodka has a little to do with it, the adorable way Curly tries to flirt with her has a little to do with it, and the guy whispering everything but sweet nothings into her ear has a little to do with it.

Okay, so the vodka has a lot to do with it.

But this guy - she thinks he said his name is Bull - is doing his best to get her to leave the party, to go to another party, a _better_ party. And she is so, so, _so_ tempted. Even if just to get away from all these people who hear things about her and think they know her.

"Let's go," she slurs, giggling when he leers at her.

With a quick glance at Danny, she lets Bull take her hand and lead her out of Henry's house. Danny doesn't even notice her, too busy with his perfect little girlfriend, and she tells herself that she just doesn't care. He's nothing, and if he's not paying enough attention to be proven wrong then that's his problem.

Bull's grip tightens as he speeds up, and she has to do her best to not trip over her own intoxicated feet. With one last glance back at Danny - who's now too busy talking to Tim - she lets Bull drag her outside and down the dark street.

She doesn't know which car is his, but he stops next to one that looks a bit like to Tim's. She glances around, realising she's farther away from Henry's than she had originally thought. Giggling again, she figures it's a good thing they left the party - much more alcohol and she wouldn't be able to stand.

"Damn, you're pretty," Bull slurs in her ear.

Then he kisses her and he's all tongue and slobber and beer. It's anything but pleasant, but she's not exactly new to bad kissers. Not everyone has Ricky Bolton's talented lips. This is different, though. It's not just bad - it's rough and angry and mean. He's biting at her lips - not the sexy little nips Dallas used to do - and she's sure she can taste blood.

"Hey -"

She tries to stop him, but he cuts her off by kissing her harder. Harder and harder until her back is pressed against the hood of the car, his hips are pressed against hers, and his hands are pressing everywhere they can reach - her breasts, her butt, her bare legs.

And, oh god, this just isn't right. Leaving a party to make out is one thing, leaving to go home with someone she knows - someone like Tim or Ricky - isn't too terrible a thing, either. But she doesn't know this guy, he's literally hurting her, and maybe, just maybe, she's too damn drunk to be able to stop him.

Danny's voice is in her head, and maybe he's been right all this time. Maybe she does drink too much, maybe she gets into trouble at parties as well as Buck's, maybe she has had enough.

And then it's Tim's voice in her head, and she can even hear the smirk on his lips.

"Anytime you get sick of him, Syl, just knee him where you know it'll hurt."

He'd been talking about Dally after catching them kissing at the Dingo. She had smirked, Dallas had scowled, and Tim had self-righteously walked away without another word.

So now, with Tim's words in her head, she wriggles as best she can, fighting tears at the tongue shoving its way down her throat, and the nails scratching at her skin. Bull moans into her mouth, apparently thinking she's as into it as he is, and she takes the moment to get her leg between his.

And she jerks it up, as hard and fast as she can.

Bull groans and doubles over, and she does her best to get out from beneath him. Pushing against him, she tries to moves away, but he stops her with a vice-like grip on her arm.

"You're a fucking bitch, you know that?"

"Let me go," she hisses.

"Not a chance, bitch."

"I'll scream," she warns.

"Go ahead. All they'll find is a bloody mess."

Real fear chills her then - icy tendrils making their way through her veins. She had a feeling he was going to force her into something she doesn't want to do, but now she realises it might be much more than that.

She opens her mouth and screams, but he cuts her off with the back of his hand across her face, hard enough to send her to the ground.

"Oh." It comes out in a breathless whisper as dizziness overtakes her. She's been hit before, by girls and guys alike, but not like that. That was more than a slap to the face, and she has to blink back the black dots.

The urge to vomit is overwhelming, but before anything has the chance to come up, Bull grabs her by the hair and yanks. She screams again, and this time it's cut off by him throwing her back to the ground like a rag doll. She chokes back a sob, realising she's nothing but a play-thing to this guy, a toy to use as he pleases. He'll beat her and leave her there if he wants to.

It's with that thought in mind that she just _knows_ she has to put up more of a fight, and the second she decides it, his shoe connects with her stomach. Ignoring the pain, she screams.

"Help!" Her voice is hoarse, desperate for anyone.

"Sylvia?"

Both she and Bull pause as a voice calls out her name. A split second is all it takes for her to scream again and for Bull to bolt. Quick footsteps come toward her, and she does her best to keep her cool when Tim and Danny show up. Of all goddamn people …

"Jesus," Tim mutters, staring at her.

She swallows the lump in her throat and stares at the gutter she's still sitting in.

"Here." Danny steps forward, and, more gentle than she would have thought, lifts her to her feet. "You okay?"

"I'm fine."

"No you ain't."

"I _am_." Even as she says it her voice shakes.

Danny turns to Tim. "I got this, man."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Make sure Mary-Louise gets home okay."

Tim nods, and with one last look at her, heads back to the party.

"I don't need your help," she mutters once she and Danny are alone.

"Well, you're getting it anyway."

"It's not good manners to ditch your girl to help out some other girl, you know?"

"Damn. Even all bruised up you can't cut the crap." Danny shakes his head, and she once again isn't sure if he's concerned or mean. "C'mon, I wanna help."

"I just wanna go home."

"Your old man didn't kick you out after all?"

"No." She's lying. She remembers the yelling, the glaring, the anger.

"Let me drive you home."

"I can drive myself."

"Let me walk ya to your car, at least."

Her car's at the other end of the street; she'd have to walk past Henry's house and the party to get to it. She nods, taking a low breath. The second-to-last thing she wants to do is head back in the direction of the party. The absolute last thing she wants to do is head back in the direction of the party alone.

XXXXX

She's in her car and home not ten minutes later. And it's freezing. Her teeth chatter, her knees shake, and Sylvia's sure that if she doesn't pull it together sometime soon, she'll end up dying of hypothermia. Or maybe she's just in shock from how her night turned out. Whatever it is, she can't stop shivering and her lips have a blue tinge to them. Hell, her whole face will be black and blue by morning.

As another shudder racks her body she realises she can't stay in the car any longer. She has to go inside and deal with whatever happens. No matter what she had told Danny, she knows she will be walking right back out of that house within a few minutes of entering, an overnight bag in hand and no place to go.

She climbs out of the car and makes her way to the front door. The cold and what happened with Bull has managed to sober her up a bit, and she finds herself wishing for another drink to help her face her dad. Pushing that out of mind for the moment, she digs in her purse for her key. She startles when the door opens in front of her.

She rolls her eyes, not even a little surprised to see her dad standing there with an empty over-night bag dangling from his fingers.

"So you weren't kiddin' about kickin' me out, huh?"

"Take the damn bag, Sylvia."

She takes the offered bag. Her dad has always been an asshole, and she's glad to be leaving; even if it means living in her car and freezing her ass off for however long. He made a game out of beating on her mom when she was still alive, and though he hasn't touched Sylvia in years, she hates him. The only reason she's stuck around for so long is because she has no where else to go.

She heads to her bedroom, slamming the door closed behind her and ignoring the glare she knows is following her. Not even bothering to consider what she wants to take and what can stay, she grabs some clean clothes, her makeup, and two pictures from her bedside table.

Less than a minute later she leaves the bedroom, hoping to leave the house without another word from her father.

No such luck.

"You turned into a drunk who can't even keep a job," he sneers. "Imagine what your mother would think."

Her heart thuds and she longs to say something back. She won't risk it, though. Not when she's this close to finally getting out. She walks right past him, and the door slams shut behind her. The lock turns with a sharp snap.

Sighing, she makes her way down the porch steps and towards her car, stopping short at the tall figure leaning against it, smoking.

"What are you doing here?" she asks Danny.

He shrugs. "You were pretty soused. I wanted to make sure you got home okay."

She denies to herself that the tears forming are because of his kindness. She's embarrassed by the situation, that's all.

"Why'd you stick around?"

He glances at the bag in her hands. "Guess I didn't believe you."

Standing in front of him while he casually leans against her car, she suddenly feels very self-conscious. She's just been kicked out of home, she has no job and no place to live, and he knows it all. She's a complete mess and he knows it. She grasps the bag tightly to her chest.

"Well," she begins, hoping her voice isn't as shaky as she feels. "If you could just move so I can get out of here …"

He doesn't. Of course he doesn't.

"Where you gonna go?"

She blinks back the tears and lifts her chin, but says nothing.

"You don't have anywhere to go, do you?"

"It's none of your business."

He steps forward. "Look, I've got a spare room at my place -"

She lets out a harsh laugh. "I already told you once that I ain't gonna sleep with you."

"And I already told you I wasn't asking. Now, I've got a spare room, do you want it or not?"

"No."

_Idiot!_ She might have pride - maybe a little too much - but now she's just being stupid and they both know it. A place to crash is a place to crash.

"Why not?" He flicks away the butt of his smoke, exasperated.

She doesn't have an answer. The only reason she has is that Danny is a jerk who annoys her too much. But he's also a jerk who seems to show genuine concern for her, who told Tim to leave so he could look after her, and who followed her home to make sure she got there safely.

She has no where else to go, no friends offering to take her in. Hell, Danny is probably the closest thing she has to a friend, even if he is on her case all the time. She sighs.

"What about your dad?"

"He ain't there."

"Anna?" It's no secret she and Anna don't get along.

He steps forward again. "I'll deal with Anna."

Tears pool in her green eyes again, and she knows she looks pathetic. Christ, she knows she _is_ pathetic.

"I have no where else to go."

"I know," he says softly. He reaches out and takes her bag from her. "We'll take my car and come get yours tomorrow, okay?"

Not knowing what else to do, Sylvia nods.

Danny leads the way to his car that's parked right behind hers, and opens the door for her. Looking down at her, he frowns.

"How pissed was is dad?"

She shrugs. "Less than I expected.

He nods, still watching her carefully. Gently, he reaches out and wipes the tears off her cheeks. "You all right?"

She swallows, looks at him, and nods. It had been a question in her mind every time she saw him and since leaving him at the party not twenty minutes ago. Looking at him now, she knows for sure.

It's concern; definitely concern.

**THE END**

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**A/N:** Thanks for reading, reviews are loved. For more Sylvia/Danny, see the next chapter of _Edges in Between_. It'll be up in a week or so :)


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